Deliberate Speed
by 7 League Boots
Summary: When memories of Fifth’s torture overwhelm her, Sam takes off on her motorcycle to test herself. SJ friendship. Some mild swearing a minor reference to sexual assault. Not very shippy, but if you look hard you may catch a “moment.” Sam's Harley rocks!
1. 1: Head Trip

**DELIBERATE SPEED**

Rating: Teen

Category: Angst, Comfort, Missing Scene

Season: SG-1 Season 8

Related Episodes: New Order Part 2: after Sam's rescue from Replicator Fifth; Abyss, Fire and Water, Unnatural Selection, Children of the Gods

Featured Characters: Samantha Carter, Jack O'Neill

Summary: When memories of Fifth's torture overwhelm her, Sam takes off on her Harley to test herself.

**Author's note**: Some mild swearing; a minor reference to sexual assault. Not very shippy, but if you look hard you may catch a "moment." Had to get Sam out on that awesome bike! The story is complete; chapters will be uploaded regularly.

_Dedicated to all soldiers everywhere who survive war and harsh captivity: You are never forgotten. You are not alone. Seek help._

**1. Head Trip**

"When are you going to let me out of here? It's been a week, damn it!"

The anguished words rang against the infirmary walls, causing a momentary hush among the medical staff. The normal hum of conversation resumed after a moment. Dr. Wilhelmina Thompson tried for composure at the same question. Again. Major Samantha Carter, lately imprisoned by earth's cruel enemy, the Replicators, was not cooperating in her recovery. In the doctor's medical opinion, Carter needed more than medical supervision. She sighed, hiding her exasperation at the thought of her patient's response to THAT suggestion.

"Major Carter, your system still shows blood chemistry imbalances, you're still anemic, AND," Dr. Thompson held up her hand as Sam prepared another protest, "you're still exhausted. You last slept a full night when?" In the middle of staring her down, the major's eyes began to close and she wavered. The doctor gripped the exhausted officer by the arm. She hoped she didn't have a smug look on her face as Carter jerked awake, mortified.

"I'm truly sorry, but I can't release you yet. This is taking longer than I'd like, as well. I'm concerned that it's lack of sleep that's keeping your body chemistries so out of synch," Dr. Thompson said, watching the patient carefully. The only response was the fisting of Carter's hands on top of the mattress. "Well, you let me know when you're ready to try something else. Come back in the morning, or sooner if you need to." With no response, she quietly left her patient, not very hopeful that she would sleep.

---

Sam opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She _hadn't_ slept, not since she returned. Not without horrors too real to be called nightmares. She didn't want to sleep if she couldn't have blessed, silent darkness. It would not come. Only the images. As prisoner in that nowhere space. How she had let Fifth take control...

Dr. Thompson's grip on her arm had alarmed her: she had nodded off in the middle of her argument! Staring bleakly at the far wall, Sam barely nodded to the doctor before she was left alone. She doggedly refused the lethal dreams; she wouldn't relive them again.

Sam sighed and strode out of the infirmary still feeling like a captive. It was futile to argue with a doctor armed with pesky medical proof to show she wasn't ready to go on duty or even go home. Inside her quarters – again –she plopped down on the bed. How she wanted to be in her own home right now! Well, that wasn't happening yet.

Sam shut her eyes and began another attempt to relax. The pull of sleep was strong, but the repulsion of her dreams was even stronger. Fifth had dredged her own monsters from their forgotten crevasses and attacked her with them. Her eyelids tightened. Sam recalled trying to meditate with Teal'c when he found out she hadn't been sleeping. Teal'c was his most calming as he had instructed her, and at first she achieved a measure of peace. Then the visions seeped through. She was back there, where red haze, thick hot dust choked her and burned her eyes.

Netu.

Bynar! Oh, god, oh god... The visions sprung full-blown as if Fifth still yanked them from her. Jolinar. Sam was Jolinar, feeling her rage and helplessness at her capture. The blinding agony of the torture prod; the hand device boring into her brain; surviving the assault by other prisoners when she was thrown into the prison, too weak to defend herself. Oh, god, not that…. And then on to Jolinar's devil's pact with Bynar; at once protection from further assaults, and submission to only one, his. Every cruel invasive touch, so very real, even now. Sam being forced to swallow the Blood of Sokar; returning to the day her mother died, too many times to count. His painful attempts to mimic human intimacy filled her with nausea and dread.

Sam pressed her fists into her temples. She tried once more to repel the memories, and laid back down. A face, faces floated around the bed, speaking to her softly at first. She recognized Daniel Jackson, her teammate and fearsome archeologist, smiling with his kind blue eyes before he burst into flames. The gruesome picture shimmered and became Teal'c, her other teammate, warrior and loyal friend. He was in the throes of agony from the pain-stick _that she administered to his flesh_. No, not true! She gasped for breath, slowly, slower until the false vision faded.

And then, there was Jack O'Neill, newly promoted to Brigadier General and her commanding officer. A man more complicated than he would ever admit, yet he could assess his environment and tactical situations as simply as he breathed. He knew them well, and proved time and again how exceptional he was as their mission leader.

Finally, here, Sam felt her tension and anxiety draining. Jack O'Neill did that; made them feel they could do anything, survive anything, because he believed they could. Pleasant memories drifted through her, of chilly nights spent off-world around a campfire. Teasing Daniel for his unswerving ethics, or Teal'c for his seriousness, and even Jack for being so, well, irreverent.

Or failed missions when they retreated hell for leather back to the gate when locals or Goa'uld took umbrage at their presence (or maybe even their breathing). Covering one another, dragging wounded, dodging glider-fire, and making it back safely, if not quite soundly, to the SGC.

But sometimes they didn't get back, or couldn't. The nicer images began to burn at the edges, turning into Jack entombed, sacrificed for them. Gone but not gone. Jack in agony from Ba'al's torture while she watched helplessly. And Fifth's inhuman anger stirring in false memories with ghastly visions, around and around and...

----

Dr. Thompson was not completely surprised to nearly collide with Dr. Daniel Jackson and the SGC's Jaffa ally, Teal'c. She had grown used to their looks of concern this past week, and their hopeful questions about Major Carter. But, one look at her face, and their expressions of eagerness faded. Sighing, she motioned them to follow her as she made her way to General O'Neill's office. One more person's hopes to dash, she thought. She hoped he knew that she was doing her best.

"Major Carter's recovery is much too slow, gentlemen. Very little has changed. That's all I can say until I speak with the General," Dr. Thompson said. How does it feel to be part of such a close team, she wondered. Major Carter was very fortunate.

---

"So, we don't have a sedative that actually works on Carter, doctor? How's that possible?" Brig. General Jack O'Neill asked before the doctor completed her report. The thought of Carter not being able to rest after her ordeal was troubling on way too many levels. He focused on the doctor noting her nervousness.

"It's the naquadah marker in her blood, according to Dr. Janet Fraiser's records. Sedatives take longer to effect the major. So Dr. Fraiser developed one that's twice as potent for most humans. I mean, other humans," Dr. Thompson faltered when the general frowned at her words. "She's already had a higher dose than recommended, but it didn't put her under."

"Dr. Thompson, is a sedative only required to relax a person so that they may then sleep?" Teal'c asked.

"Yes, but it's not working. It's as if she's..."

"She's fighting it," Jack said. He expelled a breath and rocked back into his chair. The doctor nodded. "It's been, what, a week? And Carter has yet to sleep a whole night?" Jack asked. When the doctor nodded again, he added, "Then give her enough to knock her out. You said she's going into a decline because her body's out of whack. What difference does it make as long as she can get the rest she needs?"

"I wish it could work that way, General O'Neill. But the truth is, I'm afraid she'll fight that, too. It may take toxic levels to put her out. I don't want to risk it. As it is, we gave her a higher dose last night, with her consent of course, to see if it would work. It didn't, and now she'll have to get some of it out of her system before we dare try again. Several hours at least," Dr. Thompson replied.

"Then how are we to aid Major Carter?" Teal'c asked, unusually solemn. "I offered my assistance in meditation. However, Major Carter could not achieve a restful state. I have rarely seen her unable to focus."

"I have to ask, Jack. There has to be something else there, or..." Daniel turned from the doctor to Jack. But Jack was watching the doctor. Daniel looked at her as well.

"Did you leave something out, Dr. Thompson?" Jack asked, very certain he knew what she wanted to say. He didn't care that his expression already gave away his feelings on the matter.

"There was no brain damage noted in our tests. I'm…uh, still considering options, sir. That's my report," Dr. Thompson replied. She picked up her report and left.

"This is indeed troubling," Teal'c said. He sighed and sat back in his chair with an air of dejection.

"Why didn't you want the doctor to suggest a psychologist? It might help her, Jack," Daniel said.

"You have to ask? I'd rather Carter requested one. The pinheads at the Pentagon and NID don't like post-traumatic stress, and I won't give them an excuse to say she's a security risk," Jack replied sharply. Removing Sam from SG-1 now was _not_ going to happen, he vowed. He wiped a hand through his hair. "What Carter needs is a little space. But I'm almost out of time on this."

"Um, yeah, I was wondering when that would come up," Daniel said.

"Hammond's bought us some room, but they want her full debriefing on this Fifth replicator. I doubt they'll let her sleep it off first," Jack said. Recalling their return, he felt chilled.

---_Thor's ship_---

Their return from Orilla seemed like other post-missions; they were tired, victorious, alive. Jack was touched that Sam seemed so pleased to see him safely out of the Ancient's deep freezer. But he noticed Sam's distraction almost immediately. She looked like she was watching a bad movie, wincing, shaking her head, and shutting her eyes intermittently. She'd sat apart from them, her back against the wall.

"Carter?" he had asked, approaching her warily. She jumped nearly a foot. When she did look at him, her eyes were unfocussed, as if she was still seeing something else. He wasn't used to seeing Carter confused; that was more his style. "Carter, you ok? Sam?"

"Sir. Oh, damn..." Carter had said before she collapsed. That wouldn't have been a bad thing, considering her recent trials, but she never blacked out. She fought to stay conscious. She babbled about a horse and a farm, and pancakes. Then she dozed, only to awake violently minutes later. In the end, she spent the rest of the trip home restrained in his arms like a child who had thrown a tantrum. "I can handle it, sir. I will," Carter had said, her last words before Thor beamed them back to the SGC. By then she was exhausted and limp, yet stubbornly awake. And giving them the scare of their lives. He'd thought she'd held it together at their debriefing, but Jack learned that was premature.

---_Present_---

"Why do you believe there is anything more to add to Major Carter's testimony? She attended the debriefing and gave her report," Teal'c asked, puzzled.

"Well, somebody smells a missing link, and they have more questions. Problem is, I think it has to do with Carter and not Replicators," Jack said, slamming his hands on the desk and standing. Hands shoved in his pockets, he paced the small office. He thought back to his own return after his ordeal with Ba'al. What was Carter hiding? Did he have the right to ask? Could he afford not to? He stopped and looked at his former teammates. "What's she like, when you talk to her?"

"She is reasonable. However, she is unusually restless," Teal'c replied.

"She's lost weight, she looks exhausted," Daniel said. He looked at Jack curiously. "What about your observations, Jack?"

"She looks haunted," Jack answered. "Carter needs our help, but she needs a little time. Let's try to give it to her," Jack said, and dismissed them. He'd wait a bit, then send one of them to check on her later. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere.

**_TBC_**

Love to know what you think – talk back, please? And thanks for reading.


	2. 2: Devil on Wheels

Deliberate Speed

_Thanks for the reviews, everyone. The feedback has kept me on track. For those who asked about Sam's bike, read on. If you haven't put your two cents down yet, come on! _

**2. Devil on Wheels**

The waxing quarter moon had just breached its zenith when Sam rolled out of her house for the second time tonight, walking her motorcycle. The neighborhood was quiet at this hour. Helmet on, full riding-leather out-fitted with gloves and boots. Gas tank full. Sam swung one long leg over the bike, took one last look at the lamp-lit streets ahead, and revved the accelerator. Like a startled beast, the bike's engine roared to life, and she was off. All any peepers saw was a lone biker doing a wheelie as he sped out of sight.

That's more like it, Sam thought. She felt free, energized. The streets were a blur as she leaned into the handlebars and ate up the distance. She'll worry about the consequences of sneaking off-base later. This time out, she hit the freeway, and it was all hers. "Houston, we have ignition! Whoo-hoo!" Sam laughed, and switched gears. Sam and the bike flew, as effortlessly as any hyper drive engine could. "To hell with hyper drive!" She released her hands from the handles and flung them up, controlling her bike only by inertia and the iron grip of her thighs. She grabbed them as the road twisted, leaning over and taking the long curve with ease and grace without braking.

Ahead of her a truck lumbered; another was coming toward her on the other side of the road. "Oh, yeah," Sam said, the calculations spinning in her head. The two trucks drew closer. Sam waited.

Then she gunned into high gear, accelerating. The oncoming truck blew its horn and flashed its headlights. Sam sped up. The two trucks drew closer, nearly head to head.

"Take me home, love," Sam whispered, and spurted forward, riding the double yellow line.

Bike and rider slid through the narrowing gap with bare inches to spare. She swung into the headlights in front of the first truck. The two harried drivers honked in outrage and leaned out their windows to hurl curses.

"That all you got!" Sam called back, riding again up on the rear wheel until the truck behind her honked and had to slow or hit her. Sam waved as she dropped back on two wheels and sped off. She saw his reflection in the side mirror; he was speaking into a phone. Sam wagged a finger at the harried trucker as she sped out of sight.

Sam laughed. She would have taken her beloved Indian out, but she preferred that for cruising. And it was still with Siler, who kept it when she was off-world. Now she intended to burn wheels, and the Harley was perfect (and more replaceable!) than her classic. Energy coursed through her as if the bike's engines were connected to her veins, firing her senses. If it was really nervous energy culled from lack of sleep, well, she wouldn't quibble.

She itched to remove her helmet and feel that rush of air, but safety sense prevailed. The doc probably knew she had skipped by now. It felt so good to be out, to be going away. Away to anywhere or nowhere. Nothing around her but open road and open sky. And blessed, blessed quiet.

No voices in her head. No visions, no images. No fears. Not this time, not now.

"I'M HERE!" Sam laughed as she flung her legs out from the bike. Nothing was beyond her now.

-----

"I know, George. We're on it," Jack said into the phone, and finally hung up. He looked up at Major Walter Harriman standing in the doorway. Jack waved him off. "C'mon, Carter. Where the hell are you?" Jack said to the empty office. He'd been here since the report came in, around zero one hundred. It was zero three hundred now.

Jack spotted Teal'c and Daniel as they jogged up the stairs. Their silence told him they'd been unsuccessful at Sam's house. Daniel closed the door behind them.

"Major Carter's motorcycle is missing, O'Neill. She may be very far from here by now," Teal'c said. Jack rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of helplessness.

"She probably intends to return. Well, eventually, anyway," Daniel added. He glanced at Teal'c. "She's not herself, Jack. Sam's been through a lot; probably just wanted to clear her head."

"And put it, and mine, in a noose. I got a call from General Hammond, Daniel. He freaked when I told him Carter disappeared. That means Sam's out there unprotected, and not in her right mind. Did I say, not in her right mind?" Jack repeated. Damn, but he was tired. He'd finally gotten to bed before midnight, then been awakened to the worst news since hearing Carter was presumed dead when the Asgard blew up Fifth's ship. "Well, I called in a favor with local law enforcement. If she's spotted, we'll get a head's up," Jack said after a long breath, and headed out. Daniel and Teal'c trudged silently after.

Carter, Sam: what are you _doing_? Jack thought. The transition period was far from completed; the official ceremony was only four days from now. Fortunately, Dr. Weir was off base handling preparations for her new assignment. Sam had no idea what was at stake; but, even so, it wouldn't bode well for him or her if matters had to change. The paperwork he would have to tackle. Oi. "Anyone for coffee?"

-----

Sam downed the rest of the plain donut, then took a sip of coffee. She'd finished refilling the tank. As the warm liquid slid down her throat, she felt the restlessness rising again. The lights, and the cars and people pulling in and out of the service station, began to rattle her. Of course, Sam admitted to herself, she'd rattled a number of drivers tonight and was beginning to regret it. Being a bad girl wasn't completely a kick if you were usually a good girl, she mused. Then she huffed a little angrily. Maybe Fifth had it right; being the good one just isn't worth the emotional baggage -

Oh, boy. She blinked away that crazy thought. She was standing still too long, thinking too long.

She needed to _move_. Disposing of the trash, she donned her helmet again just as two highway patrol cars pulled in. Continuing her preparations, Sam kept an eye on them. They circled the pump island just as she mounted her bike. Her heart rate sped up. She smiled in anticipation.

"Hey, there, biker. Hold on. HEY!" an officer called to her, only to see her gun her bike and speed off. "The hard-ass way, of course. Found him, guys. Alert," the officer radioed. The patrol cars put on their sirens and took off after the biker. "Damn, he's fast."

"Gotta ride, ride like the wind to be free!" Sam sang as she peered into the rearview mirror at her pursuers. She knew this was incredibly unwise; that Gen. O'Neill would have her head for this. She ignored the inner warning. She wasn't going to be the "good" one tonight.

There was still night and open space and she wasn't ready to give it up.

Sam eased her speed up another notch as the following cars drew closer, although not close enough. Her tactical senses kicked in; there would be others down the way, maybe in a roadblock. She knew this area pretty well; there was a turnoff before the next big exit. If she took that, she could skirt them and double back on a utility road.

Sam spotted the roadblock just past the turnoff she had considered. Oh, yeah, they knew she knew about it, too, and wanted to herd her into a trap. Not today, fellas, she grinned behind her helmet. She headed straight for the barricade, laughing in complete abandon.

"Geez, what is this guy on?" One of the officers in the pursuit cars radioed. "Biker didn't take the turnoff. Roadblock, he's coming at you hard!"

Sam studied the layout: Three patrol cars, two flanking the highway, one placed to block beyond them. Ah, but there were ramps. The calculations continued right up until she made her move.

"Biker, pull over and dismount!" a voice over an amplified mike ordered. Facing her, the police fanned out across the road. So far, no firearms were drawn. "Biker! This is your last warning: dismount and stand with your hands up!"

"Like this?" Sam said, holding her arms out. The bike remained steady on at first, then swerved left. The officers dived out of her path. The bike swerved right. More officers got out of her way.

Then she was on the entrance ramp, where a long row of cars were backed up, waiting for clearance.

"Whoo-hoo!" Sam laughed as she grabbed the handlebars and eased down between the waiting cars and paved edge. Behind her, the police scrambled back to their cars. As they did, Sam swung around and headed back up the other side of the ramp. And as the cars turned to pursue her by using the exit ramp, Sam waved as she zipped past them and continued down the highway. Sam wouldn't think of how reckless she was; she didn't care, not when _she_ was in control. This moment, it felt right. Later it wouldn't. But she wasn't there yet.

Her elation lasted a few minutes. A familiar sound invaded her ears: motorcycles? She looked behind her, and two highway patrol cycles were gaining on her. At last, the real cavalry! "Go for it, guys!" Sam called back, and hit the accelerator again. They receded in her mirror. They didn't have her off world tech-rigged engine, and Siler's input. She grinned. "Catch me if you can!" The one thing she couldn't make this jewel do was fly. Not yet, anyway!

The scenery began to change as the sky lightened toward dawn. Houses began to poke out of dusky dark; mist was forming as the air warmed. Sam noted these things, but concentrated on eluding her pursuers.

She could not elude Fifth and his images. Images of people she loved, of their horrible demises. She could not evade the face of herself as his pitiful, broken victim. Of her face as the perpetrator of twisted, violent acts. She could not run; she could not resist; she could not win.

"Oh, just watch me now!" Sam said, tears momentarily blurring her vision. She shook her head to clear it. If she stayed on this course it would take her out of the city. Her best bet was to shake the bogies and head back to the base. The sound of engines brought her attention back to her pursuers. Sam made her decision and sped on, two patrol bikers on her tail. Just another few hundred feet ahead, Sam found what she needed.

Sam did a swift left across the lanes, and slid down an exit ramp. As she did, she cut her engine and lights, letting the incline pull her down. She eased left again down a quiet neighborhood street and found an alley between two houses. Heart still racing, Sam let the bike idle. . The sound of the bikes began to recede. Grinning, she walked the bike to the end of the alley. Just empty streets, except for wisps of fog hugging the buildings and ground. She waited.

Sam shook her head. A wave of fatigue nearly felled her. She sagged forward against the handlebars before catching herself. Damn, this was not the time to nap! Sam knew the patrol bikers were still out there; they weren't stupid. She had bought herself a brief head start, that was all. Listening, Sam moved her bike into the street. A distant thrum of engines could be heard, in the opposite direction from the one she wanted.

Ok, this was it. She'd dodged asteroids in a do or die space race, destroyed a sun, and ridden an asteroid through earth, for cryin' out loud! Evading a couple of earthbound cops should be far less trouble. She chose to ignore the practical voice warning her against playing pursuit games, especially with the Colorado Springs police. She chose to follow the voice that promised _this_ was a challenge she _could not_ back away from.

"Engaging sub-light engines," Sam whispered, and giggled as she eased the engine on. It barely broke the silence as it hummed to life. "Easy." Mounted again, Sam steered quietly to the end of the block, halting for the red signal. "Oh, come on!" She chided herself, and rode through it. The next corner would be the turn she needed to head back to the highway, but she ignored it. Best to see where they were still buzzing the entrance and exit ramps. Could be Sam would have a long way home via the city streets. "Ok, let's use aft thrusters..."

The patrol caught her in their nightlights at the next intersection. Sam spared barely a glance as she roared forward in instant reaction.

"Damn it, give it up, biker! Last warning!" The voice of one of the pursuers crackled over a microphone. They were just half a block behind her, using a bit more cautious speed than Sam.

"Ever see a full burn? Watch me!" Sam laughed as she turned the throttle and spurted further away. "Ok, always a plan B," Sam murmured, assessing her surroundings and the closing distance between her and the patrol. Her goal was just ahead, but she needed to shake the bogies somehow. As the street curved, she noted the change in the road's surface. Sam smiled. Ok, it was worth a try. She let the bike slow so the patrol could catch up. Then she did a ninety left.

"Christ!" One of the patrol bikers yelled as dirt mixed with gravel sprayed him square in the faceplate. The patroller swerved and flew off the bike, sending it skidding away. The second rider veered off.

She meant to hit them both, but good enough! Sam maneuvered around again, but lost precious seconds as her wheels lost traction on the graveled surface. She had expected that and struggled to compensate. She managed to straighten out just as the second biker roared up.

"That's ENOUGH!" The other biker yelled. Coming nearly alongside, the rider daringly reached over, grabbed Sam's jacket from behind and yanked her firmly. At the same time, he slammed on the breaks. Sam kicked free as she was unseated and flew over dirt and grass; her bike slid ahead of them. Sam felt the air forced out of her lungs as she came down on her back. Plan B always seemed to work for Jack, she thought, her senses reeling until she was enveloped in darkness.

_**TBC**_

Love to know what you think, talk back, please? And thanks for reading.

_**A/N**__: Apologies to seasoned motorcycle riders and Colorado Springs: I've never ridden a motorcycle or been to CS, just did some research for the story. And I know Colorado Springs does __not__ play when it comes to road safety. So please, excuse any glaring impossibilities made in my enthusiasm for the story! - 7LB_


	3. 3: And the Law Won

Deliberate Speed

_Slight change of pace. Hope it's in a good way! The reviews are so helpful. Special thanks to __**RoczaDeb**__ and __**VisualIDentificationData**__ for great info on motorcycles. Please keep reviewing, and reading, too! _

**3. And the Law Won**

"Thank you. We'll have someone there right away," Jack said into the phone then added, "Yeah, yeah. I know I owe you _big_ for this one." He hung up. He took his first full breath since Carter had gone missing. Daniel and Teal'c were chasing down a lead in the western part of the county, and would be unavailable. "Walter, I'm going off-base," Jack told his aide as he headed out of his office. Walter jumped out of the general's way. "I'll be in touch," Jack said without turning around, and went out the door.

His heart was beating erratically with dread. The tip said Carter was involved in a police chase. Why didn't he believe she was aiding them in apprehending a criminal? Jack drew on his uniform blue bomber jacket and cap. He was racing through the corridors like a fugitive himself.

The elevator was agonizingly slow, allowing him too much time to consider all the things that could blow up around this. Was she all right? Had she hurt anyone? Damn, did she need to be bailed out? Was she too old to banish to her room? "Whoa, nix that thought," Jack muttered. He stepped quickly out of the elevator and made for the motor pool. The irreverent image stayed with him a little longer, however, especially when he thought of what she had to lose.

Wheeling the SUV out of the compound, Jack acknowledged his headache. It was zero six thirty hours and the sun was up. What had Carter been doing all night? If anything were going to kill him it would be her, for cryin' out loud. Escaping death from a black hole only to be captured by Fifth, and now getting herself on the most wanted list or whatever. He couldn't go on like this. If anything had happened to her just when he thought she was safe...

Jack made his way along the streets, itchy with anxiety. There was one thing he had decided before the phone call came: he would get Carter to talk about what was still bugging her. It wasn't as if, deep down, he didn't understand. He had never disclosed the full details of his own ordeal when he'd been captured by Ba'al. And it wasn't as if she'd never offered to listen.

---_SGC Infirmary, 5 years ago_---

Early on, just after his escape, he'd been aware that Sam, Daniel and Teal'c had kept a round-the-clock vigil by his bed. Memories surfaced over time, how she'd kept watch by his isolation room when his sarcophagus withdrawal became violent, and his body was enveloped in wracking pain and sickness. He remembered her voice, and at times Daniel's and Teal'c's, penetrating the swirl of confusing emotions of rage, helplessness, and hopelessness with calm and compassionate words.

And when the fog of it all finally began to recede, his first clear recall was that she'd brought him flowers. She'd silently set daisies by his bedside. She had looked as though a breath would blow her off her feet. Her eyes had been a little reddened, but she had smiled at him when he awoke. That smile had brightened the last of the darkness from his body and his soul.

---_Present_---

He would do whatever he had to to bring that smile back to him. Back to _her_. Jack shook his head. Easy, old fella; he had to care the right way. The next turn would bring him, he hoped, to where she was reported to be. "Don't make my headache worse, Carter," Jack said. "Be there."

---

_Fifth's hand reached for her_ –

Sam awoke suddenly, defensively flinging her arms up. Someone yelped as her hands made contact with a body part.

"Hey! Calm down! Calm down!" a no-nonsense voice ordered.

Cautiously, Sam raised her helmet visor. She blinked rapidly for a few seconds; then her eyes took in her situation. She was on the grass, boxed in by a wood rail fence behind her and what looked like a platoon of flashing police cars. She spotted her bike just across from her. A couple of uniforms were checking it out; admiring it, she gathered from their grins.

"Hey, you awake again?" the authoritative voice asked her. Sam's gaze tracked up from dusty leather boots tucked with tan slacks with a blue and gold stripe, up to a matching jacket, and finally up to a woman's face. A woman somewhat younger than herself, she guessed, looked down at Sam with keen eyes. Brown-skinned, with hair braided in neat rows that collected into a knot at her neck. The officer waited.

"Yes," Sam croaked out, realizing she was parched. Had she slept? A water bottle – hers, she saw – was handed to her. "Thanks," Sam said after taking a long swallow. Her eyes were stinging, her head felt like a blacksmith concert in there. "Is the other biker all right?"

"She'll live. Whether she'll live it down is another matter."

Sam nodded, and then wished she hadn't. After some seconds, she leaned on her drawn-up knees. The officers were passing by, looking at her. Some were distinctly pissed off, she guessed, while some winked at her. Oh, for cryin' out loud. Sam looked up and noted the name on the officer's jacket.

"Officer Dearing, am I under arrest?" Sam asked. Immediately, she regretted her question as laughter erupted nearby. She sighed. Officer Dearing at least just grinned. "Ok, sorry I asked."

"Don't spoil the surprise party we're holding her for, Ronnie," a female voice said in a snarky stage whisper. She came up beside her fellow officer, dressed similarly, but with more dust on her clothing. The one who'll live, Sam surmised. Lighter in complexion than Officer Dearing, this one had a short mop of dark brown, curly hair that was attractive even when mussed. Her dark eyes took in Sam from head to toe, with Attitude. Officer Castella, Sam noted.

"Yeah, this is she. Alive and well. Now, how about a name? And no, we didn't search you. You're a light sleeper and I rather like my nose the way it is," Officer Dearing said, leaning on a car, studying Sam; she didn't look doped up, at least.

"Samantha Carter," Sam replied. "Look, I'm really sorry about all this."

"No!" Officer Castella lamented. "Could speeding, riding knee-down on public thoroughfares, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, and a dozen other highway infractions not tempt you to our little party at the station, Samantha? Oh, don't be sorry yet," the officer added, making a big deal of swiping the dust from her uniform.

"Well, I'm sorry about that; it was a dirty trick," Sam said, straight faced. Dearing hooted, and even Castella's lip twitched ever so slightly. Sam eased to her feet and stumbled as dizziness hit her. Exhaustion was catching up with her fast.

"Whoa, hey. That spill hurt you?" Dearing asked, stepping closer.

"No, I'm just a little tired," Sam said, grateful for the fence to lean on. This was not turning out to be a good day. O'Neill was definitely going to have her strung by her guts.

"Let's see some ID, fly girl," Dearing said when Sam seemed steady. Sam handed over her license. The officer's eyebrows rose and she laughed. "Hey, you ARE a fly girl! Look, Penny!"

"Air Force! I told you she looked like she thought she could fly that bike!" Castella laughed with her fellow officer. Her expression thawed when she looked back at Sam. "Ok, I can forgive your dirty maneuver, Major Carter. That was some _decent_ riding, after all."

"Oh, just decent? I noticed you couldn't catch me," Sam replied, catching the note of challenge from the officer. Both officers gave her speculative looks. Sam laughed, and immediately regretted that act. Lifting the helmet off finally, she gulped in air and struggled to stand upright. I'm Air Force, she chanted, I can hang in there.

"Have to do a breathalyzer now, Samantha. That or blood test; I doubt we'll need it, but rules," Dearing said, placing a supporting hand out in case this woman keeled over.

"Sure, no problem." Sam agreed to the breath test. Blood testing was out of the question. When they brought her the analyzer, she cooperated. Boy, was she in for it. Maybe she'll make bail before she falls on her face and wakes up like a lost soul in detox. Sam noted that some of the patrol cars had cleared the area, with just a few remaining.

"Well, not surprised, the alcohol level is negligible. So, what's with the bad biker trip, fly girl? You made us think we were chasing some hyped-up lunatic these past hours. And I have to say you spooked those truckers like crazy," Dearing said when she came back. She watched the woman struggle to keep her eyes open. For a quick moment, Dearing thought she saw a very troubled person lurking there. These military types; macho even when they're not men, Dearing thought.

"Just got carried away, Officer Dearing. I just wanted to clear my, um, head, do some thinking," Sam answered. "I'm really sorry. Guess I wasn't thinking particularly clearly, though."

"No need to guess about that, Carter."

The voice jolted her to attention, or as near as she could while using support behind her. Where was an Asgard beam when she needed one? Or a black hole. She forced her eyes to focus. Yep, it was him, the gut-stringer. Sam grinned at the silly thought.

"Amuse you, do I? Do tell." Jack's words cut through her fuzzy thoughts. He was looking at her from behind his all-concealing aviator shades. She wished she had hers. Now his head was cocked in just THAT way, the way that meant no way was he feeling benevolent.

"No, sir. Not amusing. Sir," Sam replied, fiddling with her helmet. He watched her, hands in his pockets. She was aware of how unnaturally quiet it had become. "Um, this is my commanding officer, Gen. O'Neill," she mumbled to the officers. They nodded to one another. Silence. Oh, this was bad.

She saw Officer Dearing and Officer Castella watching with acute interest. Whether that interest was in her situation or in Jack was unclear to her. The few others remaining were watching from afar. Was this whole affair on hold because she was… Oh, d'uh! Of _course _because she was Air Force, and more. She straightened and looked directly into the dark shades.

"Good. Can you walk?" Jack asked, his voice even and as expressionless as his face. She was barely on her feet. She knew he watched while she took a few deep breaths and eased herself upright. It was touch and go, but she finally moved toward him.

"I can walk, sir," Sam replied. Oh, boy. Her legs were fluid with fatigue from hours on the bike. But she was going to walk away if it bent every bone in her legs. She looked past Jack to see her bike being loaded into an SUV. She stumbled. "I'm ok, just finding my land legs," she said, waving off Jack's assistance. He fell in step beside her.

"Major Carter," Officer Dearing came to her other side, "I hope everything works out. If you feel the need to play thread the needle again, give me a call. We'll take you and any of your fly-girls in a _legal_ race you won't forget," she said, handing Sam her card. Sam halted to take it, smiling.

"And I owe you one," Officer Castella said, playfully saluting as Sam passed.

"You're on. That is, if I'm still..." Sam said, looking at Jack.

"At liberty. Let's go," Jack replied, walking ahead of her a step or two.

"Yeah, show her who the boss is, General!" A male voice called out, and laughed along with one or two other officers. Jack stopped, then took his shades off to regard the men. The caller and the others quickly lost their grins under Jack's piercing gaze. They shuffled their feet, then separated. Jack replaced his sunglasses and started toward the SUV again.

Sam almost grinned; she heartily approved his sharing that military-brass look with someone else! Now if she could focus and get herself to the car before he ripped into her.

"Hey, Major Carter," Officer Castella called, and waited till Sam stopped to look, "Nice bike, too."

"Thanks. Whoa..." Sam replied just as her legs finally gave out. Instead of folding to the ground, she found herself lifted up. _Oh, damn, damn, damn_! Sam pried her eyes open. Jack was looking down at her as he held her; close enough for her to see his eyes through the shades. He was good and steamed, she could tell. "Uh, sir..."

"Save it, Carter," Jack said, and carried her to the SUV. Officer Dearing hustled to open the passenger door for them. Jack eased Sam gently into the seat, paused to look at her, and then fastened her seat belt. He shut the door, saluted his thanks to the officers and climbed into the driver's seat. They were off.

---

"Pay up," Officer Dearing smiled at Officer Castella, a knowing look on her face. "Flyboy was SO ready to catch his girl, in a hero-swoop no less!"

"Guess that officer and a gentleman stuff is true," Officer Castella grumbled good-naturedly, but paid her five nonetheless.

----

"Sir, I just want to..."

"Your place or mine?"

"SIR?" Sam gaped at him. Her body felt like one big wet sponge, too heavy to move. But her brain retained some function: HIS place?

"You have some explaining to do, Carter. This was not one of your smartest moves," his voice was edgy. "So, your place or mine?" Jack repeated, taking the entrance to the highway. At her silence, he added with less tension, "Listen, this isn't an order, but I think we should talk first. My contact in the local police department got you released before they took you in. So for the moment, there's no record about tonight. And as your _friend_, I'm asking." Not too nicely, but he was asking.

"Um, would it be too much to go to...yours?" Sam responded after a pause. She looked down at her hands. "I don't think I can go home right now. I just couldn't stay _in_."

"My house it is," Jack agreed. After a period of silence his cell phone rang. "O'Neill. Yeah, she's with me. I'm heading to my house," Jack said, and turned off the phone. "Daniel and Teal'c said they're glad you're ok. They'll call the house later." Jack informed her curtly, then was silent.

Sam nodded sleepily, now looking at him. Why was he doing this, this not-regulations thing? It's not as if she deserved it. She _would_ wait until he was a general to cut up, Sam thought. Crap.

She wished she was anywhere but here. She considered herself a soldier first, a scientist next, and female? Hardly. Now she cringed at how weak she must look to him, of all people. Of all the superiors she ever had, this man's opinion of her carried more weight than she could measure. Sam just took a breath. She was Air Force, right? At least she could try not being a total wimp right now.

Jack had been through worse. She couldn't flip out on _him. _

Could she tell him, or anyone, why she did such crazy things tonight?

Sam hoped so; she needed to know, too.

"Thank you, sir."

"Anytime, Carter."

_**TBC**_

Love to know what you think, talk back, please? And thanks for reading.


	4. 4: Touchdown

Deliberate Speed

_Again, thanks to all of you still hanging in there and sending reviews. Your comments, pro and con, make the process worthwhile. Short but the next chapter follows. So, if you haven't penned your view, there's still time!_

**4: Touchdown**

Oh, crap. _T__hat_ was so not the general's tirade he'd planned.

He was stewed, alright. Ready to blister the leather off her boots. Until she turned those vulnerable eyes to him. And thanked him. And sent his justifiable roar back down to, "Anytime, Carter."

"Sheesh, Carter, what am I going to do with you?" Jack groaned, then noticed how quiet she was. Yeah, got her quaking in her boots, _general_.

In just those few moments, she was asleep. He held his sense of relief close. Her eyes had dark smudges beneath them, her hair was in total rebellion, and she was paler than he'd ever seen her. She looked tired, alive, beautiful. Too bad she'd be waking up within the hour instead of a full crash.

Ok, stash the tirade, hold the blistering. He'd feel like he'd kicked a puppy if he gave her the rip-up she'd earned tonight, he reasoned. Jack just hoped he could find out what she needed before his daredevil scientist's luck ran out.

Easing off the highway, his eyes glanced over her again. That leather outfit was friendly to her lean form, conforming to every curve endlessly, until disappearing into her calf boots. Her voice startled him out of his perusal.

"NEVER love you back!" Sam hissed. Anger made her body rigid, straining against the seat belt. She moaned and bolted upright, her eyes wide open and glazed with the visions in her head. "Kill me if you want!" Her voice dropped to a murmur. Then she was quiet again.

He wondered what the other half of that conversation was; she sounded like classic ticked-off Carter. And who was she telling this to? The only possible answers were creepy.

Jack parked the vehicle in his driveway and cut the engine. Sam was blinking her eyes, coming awake. Suddenly, her arm flung toward him. Jack caught it, easing his hand over her fist. He saw her eyes narrow even as a tear escaped.

"Sam. It's all right. Wake up," Jack said softly. She cringed. "Carter," Jack repeated, squeezing her hand lightly. She moved her head and he knew she saw him now. Jack swallowed. Damn Fifth. He hoped there was a special hell for Replicators, one that duplicated every terror they'd put in Carter's eyes. "We're here. Stay. I'll help you out."

Jack returned after going to unlock his front door. Sam was looking at him with such a strange expression. Jack watched her as he unhooked her seat belt. She watched him, then looked away as he slipped his arms under her legs and shoulders and lifted her out. Her arm came up reluctantly around his neck, and she let her head touch his shoulder.

"You do know that snuggling with your CO won't get you out of this mess, right?" Jack murmured. A sound like a giggle came from her. "Giggling, Carter? That's a felony." He smiled when her other arm came up around his neck and she was definitely giggling, her hair tickled his cheek. A little more watery than the ones he sometimes coaxed from her, but it sounded so great to hear.

Inside, he gently laid her on the sofa, making sure the pillows were comfortably arranged for her. Sam settled into the cushions, pliant and too quiet. Jack sat at her feet and pulled off her boots. She merely watched him. After that, he settled the oversized soft throw over her. Sam surprised him by pushing herself up with considerable effort. She lifted her arms slightly, and he saw what she wanted. Her hands fumbled at the zipper of her jacket until he gently covered her hands with his. The fitted jacket didn't come off easily, requiring him to get closer to her. He tossed it onto the sofa back and froze.

---

Sam was unaware, at first, that her hands reached for him. She knew that his warmth drew her like any living thing is drawn to warmth. Oh, and that she couldn't stop herself. She leaned forward, sliding her arms around his waist, drawing him to her. He said her name in a question. Her body shuddered, recalling the fear of being alone, adrift in that non-space again. When her cheek at last came onto his chest, where his heart — his heart! — beat reassuringly human, Sam closed her eyes. Jack still had not moved, but she didn't care right this moment. _Contact_.

"Cold. Fifth was so cold." Sam breathed, inhaling him. His smell, his warmth, his presence: _Real_.

---

"It's ok." Jack finally breathed again, closing his arms around her. "You're back," he whispered. Her arms tightened, and he understood her need. The need to touch and be touched after facing the worst alone, and surviving. That instinct to desperately seek human heat, to absorb it, merge with it, and reconnect to your humanness. Jack held her gently, reveling in this opportunity to aid his fellow soldier, his friend. He knew she would have done the same for him. He regretted he had not allowed her or any of the others to do so. It would have helped them, too.

"I fought him, sir," Sam whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt. "I kept fighting, and fighting, and..."

"I know you did, Carter."

"I just couldn't stop him!" Sam's hands bunched his shirt in her fists. She twisted back to look up at him, but not letting him go. Her anger could sear. "He — he just dragged me back and forth like I w-was nothing, rerunning every horrible thing that ever happened in my life and- making me see things I never did - Even after I begged him to please _stop_, _please_ stop…" She eased herself back to him.

Jack rubbed her back and shoulders calmly but the words she uttered were suddenly illuminating. She had begged. She'd broken. That was what he had seen on her face earlier. Damn it, he should have known. He'd let himself believe she had handled it.

Of course she hadn't; no one handled surviving torture alone. And he knew that well. She'd fooled herself and he'd let her fool him.

"It happens, Carter, to all of us," he whispered, his heart hammering. "I did it, too." He swallowed. "With Ba'al. Begged for my life. It was all I could do not to give him what he wanted." He couldn't breath; she became still, quiet for eternal seconds.

Jack felt her shivers lessen, her fists opened against him. He raised one hand to stroke her hair back. She raised her chin to look in his eyes. Glistening, but no tears, he thought with relief.

"_I_ didn't escape. It wasn't the same. I just…" Sam protested after silently absorbing his statement.

"You _survived_. You came back to m-us. And I'm damned proud of you," Jack whispered. He saw the hope in her expression; it was still apprehensive, but she was hearing him. Better. She trusted him, accepted his confession. His spirits lifted: she didn't think any less of him. Of course she wouldn't. None of them would. He held her quietly a minute longer. "You ok?"

"Better, I think, sir," Sam's muffled voice reached him. "It never goes away, really," she said, her voice small and miserable. "That feeling of being controlled. Of failure."

Jack clamped his eyes shut. Moments of truth just sucked.

"No," he murmured, and held her closer when she stiffened. Jack let his hand rub soothing circles over her back. "But hey, you dealt with the snake, and that alien that did the electric boogie in your brain – What?" he replied, smiling as she surprised herself with a chuckle, or rather half of one. "You'll make it, Sam."

"Glad you think so, sir," she replied wistfully. She was still, her cheek pressed to his chest as if listening to his heart beat.

"So, you gonna stick around, now? No high-speed chases or crocheting while driving?" Jack whispered when she had quieted. He felt her relax into him, her breathing slower.

----

"No more running, sir, or _threading needles_," Sam replied softly. Looking up at him, she let her understanding flow out to him; touched at his admission. That couldn't have been easy for him. "Thank you, thanks for telling me about…that, Jack," Sam said. On impulse, she placed her lips on the side of his. He hesitated just before turning his lips to touch hers. Briefly clinging and parting. Sam smiled. Then she sobered. _Oh_. She lowered her eyes and reluctantly eased back to recline. But just for one moment, she rested her hand over his pounding heart. Its tempo matched hers.

----

"You're welcome, _Sam_," Jack replied, emphasizing her name and wagging his eyebrows playfully. He was relieved that she looked ready to sleep now. He pulled the throw over her, pausing to study her again. He couldn't imagine life without this impossible, impossibly brainy, loyal and courageous... friend in it. Jack noted how easily he was gravitating to her again, and that she was easing the throw up to her chin. _Right._ "Take a catnap. Daniel and Teal'c should call soon. Think about what I asked. And oh, yeah, I'll want to shake your dust off the couch later." And as she headed for the back of the house, the sound he heard was definitely a laugh.

When Daniel called later, Jack gave them the details about Sam's night out and they agreed to meet back at the SGC. He hung up with a smile when Daniel promised to come post haste if Sam needed them. SG-1 all for one, and one for all, he mused with a grin. Always. Oh, how he hoped it was always.

Surprisingly, Sam slept without incident for almost an hour. In the kitchen, Jack looked up, then headed to the living room. He was kneeling by the sofa where Sam lay, taking her hand when her eyes popped open.

**TBC **

Don't forget to review! Next chapter is up - Really!


	5. 5:  Reality Check

Deliberate Speed

_As promised! _

**5: Reality Check**

"Did I scream again?" Sam asked, her voice rusty. She blinked to clear her vision, and recalled where she was. She smiled and Jack smiled back. Hadn't she awakened like this after Fifth expelled her, with a warm, almost intimate touch and his face? Wow. Or: Wow, she was still tired.

"Um, I think I need to..." she said, rising. Jack helped her to her feet, and pointed to the rear of the house. As she shuffled away, she saw him watching her as he flicked the throw much like one did when shaking a rug. Sam chuckled and left him. Oh, boy; she was so going to feel that fall off the bike!

Sam returned somewhat refreshed (and dusted!), noting with pleasure the two cups of hot coffee on the table. Then she saw how unusually thoughtful Jack seemed as he sat on the sofa.

"Sir?"

"What? Oh, Carter. It's just, I should've seen it coming," Jack said. "You went through that hell, and I just figured, oh, you got over it. Like your episode on Thor's ship never happened. You practically zoned out at the debriefing, and kept breaking stuff in the lab. I break stuff, not you. Great looking out, huh? Some commander I'll make at the SGC."

"You'll be a hell of a commander, sir," Sam's voice responded before he could go on. She came to the sofa and sat facing him, one leg tucked under her. She grimaced as soreness from her long night became more apparent. Her face was pink from washing and a little angry. "You're the reason we even defeated the Replicators, if you recall. Hello, the Repository in your head and the weapon?" Sam scolded him. How dare he blame himself, doubt himself because of her antics?

"Yeah, there was that, but you were playing tag with the highway patrol! Under _my_ watch!" Jack growled, his dark eyes flashing briefly. "If this was another stupid idea for the Asgard, it'll fit right…" Sam ducked her head. Of course he was still PO'd over her antics, despite his worry. She steeled her resolve against the force of his anger.

"Sorry, I screwed up, sir. That's not your fault," Sam cut in. Then she looked at Jack and knew this was about her, now. "The voices, images…they wouldn't let me _sleep_. I hated feeling so helpless. In my dreams, Fifth was so angry, so _hurt_…" Sam whispered to her hands. "I could leave him and them behind if I ran fast enough, far enough." Jack squeezed her shoulder gently. "I should have known better; I never run away!" She huffed miserably. "Did I say how I _hate_ being helpless?"

"Yes, you did, and it doesn't lessen you," Jack said. "You're allowed to lose it, too. And Fifth was never even close to human, no matter what he appeared to be."

"Yeah, I kind of got the point when he pretended to be…um, well, tried to be Pete…" Sam finally replied, shivering at the memory. She didn't see Jack flinch at the name and the implication. It was all true about Fifth, just hard to accept the nightmarish event was done.

Sam drank the coffee, her thoughts somber. At the same moment, Jack looked up and their eyes met. The Man hardly missed a thing!

"Everything's changing, sir. Maybe that was on my mind, too, a little," Sam said, making herself maintain contact with his shrewd brown eyes. "Being second in command to the baddest colonel in the Air Force, the SGC, hell, maybe even the galaxy. Well, it's just a little pressure, you know?"

"Oh, yeah? Baddest? In the _galaxy_? Hey, I'm bad," Jack quipped briefly. Sam looked down. He got serious again. "And?"

"I'm your second in command. I can't appear to not measure up," Sam replied.

"Measure up? Decode, Carter."

"To you, sir. I can't go through all of that and not be able to go back on duty. Not like you did after escaping from Ba'al. I wouldn't seem tough enough, " she answered. His expression hardened. Sam felt herself growing anxious then angry at his attitude. "You won't be with us anymore, you'll be on base. We'll still be SG-1 but…"

"Thirty-seven."

"Sir?" Sam said, frowning at this curt interruption. He sat back and regarded her with his unreadable CO mask. "Thirty-seven what?"

"Requests on the general's – my –desk, asking for reassignment to SG-1 if you're leading it," Jack responded. Sam gaped at him. "Fourteen more requesting you on their teams if you don't lead SG-1," he added seriously. "That's only since I last checked. Walter keeps dropping more whenever I turn around." Sam didn't know if any thoughts were left in her head; she was speechless. Jack seemed satisfied. He had that insufferable smirk on his face as he picked up his cup and sipped, all the while locking his eyes on hers. "Any more questions?"

Sam could only shake her head. Then she stopped.

"So am I…?"

"Can't say. I'm not in charge yet," Jack said, clearly teasing her now.

Sam digested this. No question that Jack was saying this just to cheer her up. She felt a bit giddy. What a mess she nearly made! And by that infernal twinkle in his eyes, Jack felt the same and wasn't hiding it. Sam caught on; his little payback for making him worry, the dog. He was going to make her wait to find out about SG-1. His next words, though, told her a very special story.

"You don't do it alone, Carter. No one does. I didn't," Jack said, his voice low and hesitant. He'd only ever sounded like that just a while ago; she was more alert. His eyes were grave as he gazed back at her. "I had help. I had you, Daniel, Teal'c, Hammond. All the people I know and trust. And _it wasn't enough_, not if I ever wanted you, all of you, to trust me again."

"But, you never said…You said you were on week's leave," Sam said, hearing what he was saying. She was recalling his quick return to duty, his normal demeanor after the withdrawal subsided. She'd been as impressed as everyone at the SGC. There were some reckless times she'd wondered at, but she mostly figured it was just Jack as usual. "You said all you had to do…"

"Was 'get back on the horse.' I remember. Maybe call it a saddle adjustment. Ba'al was no picnic, Carter, and I'm damned sure Fifth wasn't either. No matter what I've said about shrinks, _I know_ the right one makes a difference. Forget Mackenzie. Part of the changes around here: new personnel. Get what you need, Sam."

Sam heard the anguish behind his sincere words. Words of warning. She'd been incredibly lucky tonight, hardly a scratch physically or on-record. Trying to cope like that was a sure way to dead-end her career and her life. He could have ordered her; he didn't. Jack was giving her a second chance even though she knew his anxiety masked his irritation with her. He'd shown her a glimpse of his private hell to help her deal with hers.

"Wow. A fine mess I made, huh? Guess I really was following my CO's example," Sam's voice was low, but she managed a smile. Jack nodded his head, imitating a sage manner. Always trying to ease tension, she thought fondly, gratefully.

----

"Yes, grasshopper. Work on the cockiness, and you'll be a master some day," Jack replied lightly. Sam rolled her eyes. That was kind of normal, right? Just a hint of sadness with hope and of course, sleep, remained in her arresting eyes. He'd take it; this was Sam. She'd know what she had to do. They relaxed and she shared a little of her ordeal, and he did the same, like only close friends would.

He hoped they'd still be able to do this in the future. A future where he'd be waiting for her, and the team to come through the gate safely. Time after time. Jack memorized everything about this time, this place; he was sure he'd need the comfort of it somewhere down the line.

Eventually, Jack couldn't deny they had to return. Sam kept trying not to yawn. So, he suggested they get back to base. Returning from the kitchen, he caught sight of Sam's fitted leather pants, tucked into her rider boots again. Jack shook his head to clear it. Ok; this is his 2IC. But when she walked toward him with her jacket in hand, he was there to help her put it back on before he even thought about it. She thanked him with a big smile and preceded him to the door.

After locking up, he saw her head to the back of the SUV, her helmet in hand.

"Oh, Carter, front seat. Uh-uh, that's an order," Jack said firmly. For a moment he thought she would resist, but she just swore and marched to the door, jumped in and slammed it. She buckled her seat belt and sat silently looking at the front window.

Jack climbed into the driver's seat. Sam was running her hands over the helmet in her lap, avoiding his eyes.

"Oh, stop sulking."

"I am not sulking!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am…Sir, you're right," Sam sighed and sat back. Jack focused on the road. "I know I shouldn't have left the base before the doctor cleared me…"

"I don't think there'll be much fallout. Good ol' Doc Thompson seems to have changed her mind about keeping you on base." He'd made sure of that, of course. Dr. Thompson was slated for a transfer, and wasn't she grateful for his pre-approval. Piece of cake.

"And you're all right with that?" Sam asked, incredulous. He turned to look at her briefly.

"Yep. Got other things on my mind, like the formal ceremony for assuming command of the base this weekend. Why do all that paperwork when everything worked out just fine? So, done deal," Jack answered, a smile on his face. She was flabbergasted; he _liked_ giving her that look. "Carter, you're not on report for this, but if you _ever_ give me this kind of headache again, so help me, I'll bust you down to base dead-mouse finder."

That returned them to their familiar banter and they rode back to base in a comfortable mood. He could admit to feeling just a little more relaxed.

Sam was gonna be ok. His world was gonna be ok.

_**TBC**_

Love to know that you think, talk back please? And thanks for reading.


	6. Back in Step

Deliberate Speed

_Still thanking everyone for sticking around, and even talking back in your reviews. One more chapter to go, will be posted tomorrow. Tell me what you think, I'm in suspense. _

**6. Back in Step**

Sam listened to the familiar voice as they drove back. Tough guy, yeah; the toughest. But she was tough, too. And if a little of his rubbed off on her after all this time, it was all good. She grinned at that imagery; ok, a little 'bad' Sam remained!

And there was that persistent reminder burrowing into her awareness, something about her boyfriend. Oh, and regulations, as in, "tap-dancing on the thin line of." But Sam decided she could process those thoughts at a slower rate, later. She was still the tiniest bit loopy, probably with relief and a big dollop of exhaustion.

She was going to be ok; it wouldn't be easy but when was it ever? She had people.

----

"You know, Carter, the Colorado Springs patrol still has you in their sites," Jack mentioned as they cleared the checkpoint and entered the elevator. Sam's eyes widened with that realization before she gave him a cheeky smile. "I'm thinking it's not gonna be for community service. Sounds like they wanna drag race or something."

"Oh, I'm sure of that, sir. I'll have my posse ready whenever they do!" she laughed. Man, he was feeling sappy. He soaked in the knowledge that she was safe, for the moment.

Jack kept a straight face as he recalled how the guards up top gawked, caught off-guard as it were by the tall blonde officer in black leather. She was two strides up on them before her inquiring eyes prompted them to salute their superior officers. He shook his head. If she only had a clue of her full potential, he thought.

"So, you know there's a lesson here somewhere, right?" Jack said when she was quiet again. She shrugged. "Carter," he prodded. She sighed. He probably interrupted that scary brain of hers as she solved some scientific mystery just now.

"Yes, sir. That I won't go looking further than my own backyard…?"

"Good one, grasshopper," he couldn't help the chuckle. "You know, about going it alone?" Jack pressed her on this. "Things are changing but that never changes." Too much was on the block, he wanted her to keep this front and center. Now she was giving him a calculating look, the biting her lip kind that preceded something deep. The elevator stopped. They stepped out and faced each other.

"Ok, I know better now. But do you, sir? If you need me? Or the team, you won't hold back?" Sam asked, searching his eyes. The question caught him off balance. Her eyebrow lifted, a bit daringly for a penitent. But Jack saw that her question wasn't asked in jest or play. "You can still count on us, too, general."

"No midnight daredevil daring-do's when you just need to talk?" Jack studied her.

"And no dusk to dawn binges when _you _need to talk? Good," Sam replied, and turned and walked into Daniel and Teal'c. "Hey, guys!" She moved to meet them.

Jack stared at her. Wait, how'd that get in the deal? How the -?

----

"Sam, you daredevil you! Scared us to death!" Daniel said, swaying her in a tight hug. "Don't ever do that on this side of the Stargate!" She laughed and hugged him right back.

Over her teammate's shoulder, she saw Jack's dumbstruck expression. As if she didn't know how he coped with his demons after all these years. Not alone anymore, if she could help it. _Get what you need, too, Jack_. Jack was going to need backup as head of the political minefield called the SGC.

"I am glad to see you safe and well, Major Carter," Teal'c said when he allowed her to hug him, too.

"Well, safe, anyway, but thanks, T. Sorry to worry you but you know I can handle myself…" Sam replied but stopped as she noted Jack watching. "Most of the time," she amended. She stood with her hands on her hips, helmet under one arm and faced him. "Deal, sir?" Sam challenged. His expression wavered from his trademark confusion to a respectful nod.

"Deal, Carter. Now _hop_ on outta here and change and the guys will treat us to something to eat," Jack answered finally. Daniel, standing next to Teal'c and watching the two with avid curiosity, bolted upright at Jack's words. "Oh, did I say that out loud already?"

"_Masterful _one, sir," Sam said with a smile. "I have to stop by the doc first, got to check something out." Her eyes met Jack's. "Meet you in the commissary in 30," Sam called, spinning around and striding away. Her long legs seemed to slow her down on their own. Ouch.

She would hang out for a bit with the fellas, let them see she was really ok. After that Sam predicted she'd be face down and backside up for the rest of the day! Well, she should make a phone call first…She limped into the infirmary entrance and just missed colliding with the person she came to see.

Dr. Thompson stopped short at Sam's entry. She glared, and put her hands on her hips just like Sam did minutes ago with Jack. Her eyes looked pointedly at the helmet Sam still held, evidence of her escape.

"Forget something, Major Carter?" Thompson's sarcasm was very evident. Sam was instantly on _that_.

"Listen. I do apologies pretty well, ok? But I only do them once, doctor," Sam came back with pure Officer Attitude. She didn't even consider being outranked in medical matters. "I'm sorry I –"

"It's forgotten," Thompson interrupted. Sam stared with growing indignation. Then she saw her lip twitch. At last, Thompson grinned. What a difference, Sam noted, losing none of her attitude. "I've already spoken with General O'Neill. How could it be otherwise? "

Sam walked up to her. Yeah, how could it? No doubt Jack charmed her, an errant thought escaped. Average height made Thompson look up at Sam; light brown hair, brown eyes, skin almost fairer than her own.

"Why don't you have freckles?" Sam asked, still in command mode. The effect on Thompson was to leave her speechless. Well, alright, then. (Oops, 'bad' Sam again!) Sam grinned and saw the woman breath in relief. "Never mind, they wouldn't dare," she added lightly. The doctor smiled back.

"Correct. Not that I've seen much sun these past weeks. So, what can I do for you, major?"

Sam swallowed before responding. Her night's adrenaline was pretty shot; talk about running on 'E.'

"Uh, just an unfinished matter, doctor," Sam answered. Thompson immediately became all business except for the hint of sympathy in her eyes. She nodded and stepped past Sam.

"Sure, in my office."

"Doctor, you're sure the imaging scans didn't show, you know…" Sam whispered as they walked the short distance. Thompson understood. They entered her office and she shut the door. Sam waited as the doctor sat at her desk.

"Absolutely. Please, sit," she offered. Sam hesitated and decided to stand, leaning on the chair back. "There was no sign of any foreign agent in your brain or anywhere on you."

Sam took a deep breath, almost relieved. Her dreams had been so vivid after her return that she feared Fifth had left an implant to continue punishing her. The doctor had reluctantly humored her and did a repeat scan with higher resolution, with the same negative results. Sam didn't dare ask then for further tests; she hadn't wanted to appear paranoid. So it was truly all in her head, not courtesy of Fifth. Well, not anymore anyway.

"Do you want something to help you sleep? I'm sure we can – " Thompson said gently. Sam shook her head.

"No way. Nothing short of a staff blast will wake me once I'm down," Sam replied. Her voice was tired but she made herself speak. "About the sleeping, not sleeping-" she said then trailed off. Thompson was already writing on a pad. Of course she was, Sam thought. Sam took the paper when it was handed to her.

"Carl's Army with combat and Gate experience, decided to work with SGC veterans of war. He has all the SGC clearances and a great manner. If you prefer a woman, major…" Thompson said, her tone very confidential. Sam shook her head and the doctor nodded.

"Sounds like a match. Thanks, doctor." Sam read the information. One small step; not too bad. "Well, I'd better get changed and meet the guys or they'll storm this place," she quipped.

"Oh, I've already had that pleasure. Quite a unit you belong to, Major Carter," Thompson said. There was deep admiration in her voice as she regarded Sam kindly. "If you and your 'guys' are looking out for earth the way you look out for each other, well. We can never thank you enough, but thanks."

"You're welcome," Sam replied and waved as she stepped out of the little office. Whoa; that was heady. Kind of gratifying, in an uncomfortable way. Folding the paper into her hand, she nodded as staffers passed through and saluted. And why were they looking at her so strangely?

They saluted her, and their eyes took in her outfit. Oh, d'uh, she was out of uniform! No wonder she was getting those looks. Come to think of it, Jack had…Aagh! Her thoughts were tired! She speeded up, taxing her sore muscles.

----

Later, in her quarters, Sam scowled at her reflection. Had she gotten even paler after leaving Jack's? She plopped onto the bed, and used all her willpower not to lay back and liquefy. Her body was really doing a number on her after she did a number on it.

"Suck it up.," she warned herself. She wouldn't be surprised if Jack knew this was how she'd be paying for her unauthorized night escapade; kind of like drinking too much, you get socked in the morning? Probably why he didn't blast her from one end of the sound barrier to the other! Then Sam paused in the middle of unbuttoning her BDU jacket.

It teased her in the back of her mind that she hadn't thought to contact Pete when this all came down on her. Now that he had clearance, she could have sought him out. Instead she flew off to practically ground her career and disappoint the people who'd come to care about her. Maybe care more than they were supposed to.

Oh, crap, don't go there, she scolded herself. But it was too late.

Sam undressed and climbed into the VIP room's shower. She let the water run over her, hoping for clarity but not pleased that she got it.

God, what must he think of her?

There was an easiness between them since, well, since she had a talk with herself when marooned on the _Prometheus_. She'd met Pete and things seemed to be working themselves out. She'd put her apparent hero worship of Jack O'Neill aside and did what she always did, her best.

Jack seemed more approachable and less tense in her presence. That didn't change the way they operated on missions; they were very much the commander and second. But off-hours, off duty; it was hard to pin down exactly. She did feel he took his cues from her, however. She finished the much needed shower and prepared for bed.

The post-zatarc incident must have been a burden on them. After the SGC granted Pete clearance (To which Jack, Daniel and Teal'c expressed their reservations, respectfully, of course. ) it was as though they both knew their reactions to the cited event were likely attributed to that moment in time rather than heartfelt emotions. The existence of her new albeit over-zealous boyfriend proved she had moved on, cordoned off the space between her professional life and her private life. The way 'normal' people did. Sam always suspected that the elevator humming actually broke the ice the zatarc confessions had built around them. Strange!

Sam laid back, her hands carefully clasped behind her head. And stranger was that she felt so comfortable in the intimacy of Jack's home, alone. She clamped her eyes shut. Good god, did he think she was flirting with him? Was she? She kissed him, he kissed her! Sam's head wanted to burst with her embarrassment. Ok, he didn't seem to mind her icky-sticky behavior, but, oh boy!

Distance; she had to replace her usual distance with him. Jack was easy to talk to professionally. And now personally as well, once she'd taken that step back, given them both proper space, proper vision. Ok, that was the answer to her uncommonly clingy act earlier: Distance.

But she dreamed of his large, strong hands gripping hers as she dangled over a yawning chasm, and his fierce, caring brown eyes reassuring her that she was safe, he wouldn't let her go. And he didn't.

_**TBC**_

Love to know what you think; talk back, please! And thanks for reading.


	7. All Ahead Full

Deliberate Speed

_**A/N**: Bummer! Sorry about the delay; site was being glitchy. _

_This is it, the conclusion! Sam's wild ride ends here. Thanks for hanging on. I felt inspired by your feedback all the way. I played around with Sam a bit so read carefully. Sorry, _**Zoser**_; you reminded me that Pete was very much in the picture (behind the scenes, thankfully) in New Order, drat. Anyway, I hope the ending works for all who faithfully followed. Did it or didn't it? Tell me about it! _

**7. All Ahead Full**

Sam swore that the next few days passed with a speed she could only dream of on her bike. She'd wasted no time calling the psych doctor and set up an appointment for that next day. Thompson was right: Before she knew it, the session was two hours in, and Carl was as focused as when she'd begun. No 'tell me about yourself, your mom and dad, etc' stuff. Just right into the dreams and sleeping problems. Sam found herself more relaxed and tuned into her day than ever. She'd slept even better that night and the ones that followed.

Sam thought she'd successfully reestablished the professional 'distance' with Jack. They met two days after her break-out for a final debriefing with Dr. Weir. She found herself talking easier about her experience with Fifth, focusing on the replicator's abilities and operations rather than the dreams he invoked. The meeting concluded without reference to her 'chicken run' as Jack called it. That finally tied up her official business with Fifth.

But she should have known that Jack was attuned to her discomfort. The day before the transition ceremony, the team met for breakfast. Sam's appetite was returning and they teased her for eating her meal and part of Jack's. To which a small battle of forks had ensued with Sam usually snatching the tidbit she aimed for. Goodness but he had almost as much food as Teal'c!

"Well, I guess this changes things for you two," Daniel said after they had eaten. Sitting side by side, the two had frozen in place. "I mean, we won't be on the same meal schedules," Daniel offered into the suddenly tense atmosphere. His blue eyes grew big with puzzlement behind his glasses at the change in the air.

Of course that's what he meant, Sam pondered later. Cleared for limited hours in her lab (Thompson had ample enforcement via Team SG-1 this time!), she recalled how mortified she'd gotten over Daniel's words. For some unkind reason probably aimed at making her lose her mind, she thought about Pete and her last conversation with him. It was not a happy one; she'd given him as much detail of her recent absence as she could before invoking the "it's classified" tag. But he persisted with questions even after that. Sam was relieved that she was confined to base, and didn't have to see that 'you don't trust me?" look in his eyes again.

Sam gave up on her work for a moment. She had grown antsy about Pete since Fifth stirred that vision into her head about them, the ranch and horses and dogs. And pancakes. Dear god, did Pete even like pancakes? She should be sure of that by this time and she wasn't. She wasn't really sure what he did like. What Sam was sure about was that the scenario Fifth planted didn't suit her at all. It was fortunate that she and Pete were just friends and of course, lovers; it was enough for now.

"Well, that look has got to mean you've solved the mysteries of the universe. Oh, wait," Jack's voice pulled her away from her deep thoughts. He was leaning on the door jamb in black tee shirt and BDUs sans jacket, as comfortable as if he'd been there for ages. Sam frowned; had he? "Or, it's the hum-worthy Pete Shanahan." And Sam's jaw dropped.

----

Jack watched Sam for several minutes before deciding to speak rather than leave. He had a suspicion that she'd be stressing over The Boyfriend. It made him ache, knowing she was facing the same obstacles to a relationship that he'd faced in his marriage. From her recent distracted air and her attempts to be even more professional with him than before (if _that_ was even possible) he'd guessed her situation.

"That obvious, sir?" Sam asked finally. She angled her chair to face him. Color had returned to her, her eyes no longer looked sunken and fever bright. He stepped in and took position on the other side of her desk. "I should have called him sooner," she said wryly. "He was worried, and no one would tell him anything." Damn he hated that look of doubt in her eyes.

"You needed time to sort all this out, Carter. You called him when you could. Can't fault yourself there," he offered. She watched him a moment. "You know there are things you won't be able to share with him. Don't worry, he'll catch on. Pete's a cop, he knows," Jack replied. He sure hoped he did. Pete's behavior so far didn't impress Jack, but it was Sam's belief that secured his clearance. Her fingers picked up a square doohickey and fiddled with it. Uh-oh, Carter's _fiddling_ with a doohickey…

"Sir, about my 'clingy' conduct at your house. I just want you to know that I don't usually do that –"

"Oh, like the last time you got clingy? Let me see, that was…Oh, yeah, _never_," he answered in full sarcasm. Her eyes sparked. Good girl. "Never's too soon for you?" Jack watched as she fairly slammed the object down. Wow. "Well, there was that snuggling thing," he said as if deeply considering. Man, her face colored fast! _He_ was never going to be sorry for that.

"Sir, I really didn't…I wasn't -"

"No, no problem, Carter. Actually, I kind of liked that –" Jack added wistfully. She glared when she realized he was teasing her. As if being a general could cure him of teasing Carter; practically a perk. But she was speaking again.

"Sir, you know what I mean. I didn't want, oh, damn it," Sam said. She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "I didn't want things to get, well, complicated between us, you know? You'll be base commander, and I don't want to overstep any lines. Give you the wrong impression, I guess," Sam explained. There was regret in her eyes, her voice; he felt the same.

"Here, now; don't tell me you're going to go all subordinate on me? Can't bail on me now that I'm The Man, Carter," he answered. The little melancholy and worry were still there, but so was the old Sam, the confident and smart aleck one.

"You've always been The Man to me, sir," Sam murmured. Jack rocked back in surprise. "You were my CO for seven years. Believe me, you _know_ how to be The Man."

"Ah, yes, there is that, except when you didn't give a fig that I was The Man," Jack said. She smiled at that. "Keep speaking your mind, Carter. Can't be The Man without a thorn at my side, can I?" Sam's brow furrowed then her eyebrow went up and a mysterious smile spread over her. "What?" Jack asked, suspicious. "It's tradition! I was the thorn in Hammond's side, so I'm here now, and that means you ," he explained, using his hands to indicate her.

"Let me get this straight: You're giving me _permission_ to be this thorn?" Sam asked, sitting forward, leaning her elbows on the desk. Jack hesitated before he nodded, wary. "_At _your side."

"Can't buck tradition - whoa. IN my side," he corrected.

"You said 'at' your side, sir."

"Didn't - HEY! General, here, says didn't. Why would I even say 'at'?"

"Just practicing being your thorn, sir." Sam said, sitting back and crossing her arms again. "I might like being your thorn." Sam grinned. He groaned and shook a finger at her.

"Did I say grasshopper? Frankenstein," he grumbled. She just smirked. Ok, his change in rank seemed to have made Sam more at ease with him again. He'd take that over her stiff, ultra-professional stance these past days. They were quiet a moment.

"Look, I'll never be too big to listen when you need an ear. For anything," Jack said. Sam searched his eyes seriously, then she nodded. Not that he wanted to hear of Mr. Hum-worthy causing her problems (he _was_ watching his blood pressure and there _were_ pesky laws against assaulting an officer), but he'd be there for her anyway.

"Thank you, sir. And I meant it, too. And you're still welcome at our commissary table," Sam offered. Her smile was mischievous. Jack simulated offence.

"Why, that could be considered a threat, major," Jack said, causing her to shake head. "Speaking of commissary, your obligatory lab time is officially half over, meaning, you're coming for chow. I double dare you to even look at my plate."

----

Sam leveled a challenge at him as she led the way out. Could a major still joke with a general like this? If she wanted distance, tomorrow she would have it. But at least she'd let him know her reckless night and all her following actions (clingy, yech!) were just aberrations. Jack was a peach to suggest he didn't mind. She wondered if he'd be so kind about it if she told him how good he was at handling that situation. Hah; she'd never tell him that!

But when he reassured her that Pete would come around about her job eventually; she knew Jack still had her six. Sam was determined to give Pete a chance to understand and accept the difficult limitations her work might have for them. She really hoped, though, that the vision of The House and Farm was some picture from the back of her very, _very _young mind. With all that was going on it just didn't fit her, and she wasn't sure it ever would. Sam was very sure Pete wouldn't even consider the Big House in the Suburbs at this stage of their association.

"I'm not just fast on wheels, sir. My fork's the fastest around. Feeling lucky?" Sam asked. His dark eyes twinkled. He stuck his hands in his pockets and lifted his formidable chin.

"I'm a general. I don't have to be fast or lucky. Just, higher," Jack responded, falling in step beside her.

For the next few minutes and the rest of the day, Sam just enjoyed the last moments of their old camaraderie. She didn't know why he'd said a thorn 'at' his side instead of in it, but it made her feel, oddly enough, at ease. And naturally she couldn't help pushing him on it, just a little. Oh, bad Sam one last time!

Full speed ahead it is, then.

----

Sam's thoughts wandered as she stood in formal dress blues with the rest of the base personnel while Dr. Elizabeth Weir introduced Jack as the new commander. He glanced at them quickly in passing. Sam thought about her ongoing sessions with the base psychologist, who was satisfied that she was on her way to handling her ordeal. Apparently, making the appointment herself was a good sign. According to Daniel, Jack had said that would be best. Smart man.

And it didn't escape her that only a _very_ fortunate confluence of events – the SGC's leadership in transition, the infirmary's temporary doctor and Jack's friend in the Springs police department, oh, and Jack's presence – allowed her to be here. The consequences of her joy ride could have been so very different, and not in a good way.

She knew that the real healing began in Jack's living room, and the memory of their deeper bonding strengthened her. He didn't share every trauma in his life (Iraq wasn't on the menu). What he did share was enlightening about him and herself. Even though Jack had moved from off-world commander to general in command of the base, it was a good change. Right?

Sam felt real pride in his promotion, knowing how he'd more than earned it. And that pang of regret that he wouldn't be going with them through the gate anymore; well, it'll pass. She'd begun to relax around him again, maybe even more, since 'General' Jack didn't mind informality. She could already see what his command style would be! Then her attention came back to the proceedings as the new commander spoke.

"And the reason I accepted this job is so I can do really cool stuff like this. It is my pleasure to make my first official order of business, the promotion of Major Samantha Carter to the rank of Lt. Colonel!" Brig. Gen. Jack O'Neill announced from the podium.

Sam was caught in shock and amazement. Teal'c and Daniel, standing on each side of her, grinned at her surprise. Of course, they knew! And the General knew. She basked in their looks of pride and affection. She let her heart do the racing this time, as she stepped forward to embrace the next phase of her career and her life.

**THE END**

Love to know what you think, please talk back! And thanks for reading.

_**A/N:** A final note to thank the sterling efforts of my dedicated beta, _**Luzita**_ (talented author of **Liberating Males** ) for helping this hard-headed author stay on track. Being a beta is as much labor as love, and you didn't take it lightly so neither could I. The final product (and all the changes I didn't tell my beta) are, of course, all mine, errors and all! Alas, hard heads aren't cured overnight. , _**Luzita: **_Standing Ovation at ya! – **7LB**_


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